


OT3 Drabble

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi, OT3, post RFB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Fall John and Greg find some comfort in each other, but both men are still thinking about their dead detective constantly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	OT3 Drabble

Greg sat on the edge of his bed staring out the wide bay window idly. Behind him the army doctor John Watson lie tangled in his sheets and still snoozing. The detective’s eyes were fixed on the dark skyline of the city below. It was likely still only two or three and he doubted he’d be getting much sleep at all tonight. He rubbed his eyes in frustration and exhaled loudly. There were times when he missed Sherlock –ones which generally came in the dark of the night- like now and he would just sit. He’d stew over his feelings for hours if he had the time and night when he couldn’t sleep was the worst.

A low sigh passed his lips as he pulled himself to his feet. Greg let the sheet drop from his waist and he slowly fished around for his shorts. Once he found them he slid them on and headed for the kitchen. If he was lucky he’d be able to keep quiet enough that John wouldn’t wake.

At times he felt almost like being with John was like stealing from the detective. Sherlock and John hadn’t been _together_ at least as far as he knew, but still they had been so intimately close. John was Sherlock’s. He was and it didn’t matter how you labeled their relationship.

Greg made his way down the hall, past his children’s bed rooms, and to the kitchen. It was never too late for a drink, not in his mind. If anything it might take the edge off and help him get to sleep faster, that would certainly be nice. The idea of John’s arms curling around him and holding him tightly to his warm bare chest…it was perfect.  Greg had never had that with his wife –that he could recall- and he’d certainly never had it with Sherlock. The army doctor made him feel so much more loved than he remembered feeling in a long time.  

He adjusted his shorts on his hips as he made his way to the liquor cabinet. The detective didn’t bother looking for anything specific and grabbed the first bottle.  Cracking it open he could remember a time when he and Sherlock had drank together in his flat. It had been before John and it had been a particularly puzzling case they’d just solved. Sherlock had been _elated._

> _Greg was opening a bottle of wine when slim bare arms wrapped tightly around his waist and drew him up against the detective’s lithe form. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips. When Sherlock was like this, things were always good and when things were good Greg was happy. This was the way he liked to see Sherlock. The warm full lips pressed against the side of his throat causing Greg to take a shaky breath._
> 
> _“Sherlock, I thought this was just drinks?” he asked carefully._
> 
> _The detective gave a low chuckle and a slender finger ran up his side causing a shiver to run through his body._
> 
> _“When is it ever_ just _drinks Greg?” he inquired._
> 
> _“Never,” he answered willfully._
> 
> _As much as Greg had wanted Sherlock’s love he had settled for his body. His body was the only thing Sherlock was willing to give so he had taken it. He always had and Sherlock knew he always would, but sometimes he had hoped. That hadn’t been one of those times though._
> 
> _Greg had hardly even popped the top of the bottle when it had been swept out of his grasp and into Sherlock’s. The youthful detective took a large swig before handing it back to Greg. He snorted. Of course. What were glasses for anyway, he thought sarcastically. Greg took a drink as well. A few drinks later he couldn’t remember where the bottle went though and the only thing that mattered was the lips, hands, and the voice. It was always the voice that did him in._
> 
> _“Greg?”_

In the memory he had been listening to Sherlock’s breathy pant as he dropped to his knees before him, but in reality it was something much different. The voice snapped him from his memory and he turned toward the door to the kitchen to see John standing there.  John Watson’s height and frame were nothing like Sherlock’s, but then John was nothing like Sherlock. It was good. He liked that John was different. After having to look up at someone to kiss them for so long John was the same height and of a similar build. Greg loved feeling his muscles ripple under his touch. It was so different from touching Sherlock.

“Greg?” John inquired again.

“Sorry, what?” he replied setting down the bottle on the kitchen table.

“I asked why you weren’t in bed,” John said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all Greg had.

John knew how he got. The doctor got the same way at times. They both seemed to have little ticks when they remembered him. Greg’s was more obvious, but he knew when John was having a moment as well.

“Come on,” John muttered holding out his hand to Greg.

Greg sighed softly and bit his bottom lip. He slowly strode over and laced his fingers with John’s.  John brought his hand up and kissed the back of it briefly before dropping it down to his side and pulling Greg off to the bedroom. Upon entering the room John closed the door. Greg dropped John’s hand and walked over to the window; again though he was distracted from his thoughts –this time before they even began- by John. The warm lips pressed to his shoulder and arms wrapped around his waist.

“Come to bed Greg.”

Reluctantly he turned in John’s arms and wrapped his own around the doctor’s torso drawing him closer. Without John he didn’t know what he’d have done. He had been so broken. Their relationship had formed out of grief and he knew that wasn’t a good way to start out, but he hoped there was something more between them. Maybe one day when they shagged neither of them would be thinking of Sherlock.


End file.
